


Don't Say A Word

by TheWeirdDane



Series: FYF - Fuck Your Fave [1]
Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Being Walked In On, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 12:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/pseuds/TheWeirdDane
Summary: You're an apprentice in the discipline of Necromancy. Your mentor is Solomon Wreath, a cleric. Together, you achieve marvelous results. Maybe not the results one would think, but results nonetheless.





	Don't Say A Word

**Author's Note:**

> First installment of the FYF series - Fuck Your Fave! We're starting out with one of my more recent, newfound faves :D  
> Also, if you comment - please no spoilers for the books as I haven't finished them all yet!

It was a terribly dull meeting. All you could focus on was your hand traveling up the length of Solomon Wreath’s thigh. He appeared completely indifferent, face calm and composed, voice steady and loud as usual. He was a man of power, and everybody listened to him. Even High Priest Tenebrae had weighted his words.

What the meeting was about was a complete mystery to you, to be honest, and you didn’t care to listen properly. They wouldn’t speak to you directly - you were but an apprentice in the discipline of Necromancy. You had only been dragged along to this meeting because Solomon had demanded it after promising you that you wouldn’t really have to listen.

So, naturally, you didn’t listen at all. You simply focused on your hand tracing patterns into his thigh. Solomon was wearing long, black suit pants and a suit jacket with a black shirt beneath it. You liked this outfit, had only seen him in it a couple of times, but nonetheless, it always got your heart racing.

One of the other Necromancers said something that was apparently funny, and all the others laughed. Solomon had to clear his throat quietly before joining in the laughing, and you merely smiled and made sure it wasn’t too smug. Solomon Wreath rarely cleared his throat, let alone to laugh - your actions had an effect on him.

It filled you with glee, and you slid your hand higher up his thigh until you cupped his crotch, and Solomon spread his legs while sending you a quick glare while the others were busy laughing and commenting on how funny that joke or whatever had been.

You fondled him through his pants, and he let out a soft sigh that just barely disappeared into the dying laughs of the other Necromancers. Solomon knew he would have to keep his voice level so as to not rouse suspicion of what you were doing, and this was particularly amusing to you.

Naturally, you did your best to ruin it for him. Not because you didn’t like him, but because you knew he was strong and resilient enough to not be affected by something as simple as _fondling_. But it seemed you were wrong.

For the second time that night, Solomon cleared his throat before speaking.

“Got a frog in your throat, Wreath?” one commented, rousing more laughter. Solomon stared the Necromancer down for the longest moment until the poor sorcerer looked to the people on both sides before huffing in a deep breath and returning the stare.

“Do you wish to compete against me?”

The Necromancer looked hesitant before shaking his head. Solomon’s lips twisted up in a smile that was void of any kindness. It was enchanting, and you squeezed him gently when he spoke again, not taking your eyes off him.

“Then I, ah, suggest you keep your petty questions to yourself, Cleric Shevras.”

A rush of adrenaline surged through you - you were starting to crack his exterior. This was most exciting! The meeting continued, and this was _not_ very exciting. It seemed to take forever. You kept your focus on caressing Solomon through his clothes. At one point, he began squirming. Not a lot, only noticeable to you and maybe the Necromancer on his left, but it was more than enough. You could feel his cock begin to harden, and it thrilled you greatly.

The more you caressed and touched him, the harder it got for him to talk properly. His voice didn’t crack, nor did it falter, but it did become a bit weaker and less steady. There was one - _one_ \- time where he had to start over because he forgot what he was saying, brought on by you stroking him firmly through the thick fabric of his pants.

By the time the meeting finally came to an end, he was completely hard, and he refused to stand up from the chair and reveal it to everyone present. Instead he said, “I’ll stay behind and deal with the papers,” which the other Necromancers seemed to believe, because they left you alone.

Barely had the last Necromancer left the room before Solomon grabbed you by the back of your neck and shoved you against the table. You cursed at the pain in your lower back but didn’t get a chance to complain about it before he was above you. He pushed between your legs and ground his clothed erection against your cunt, making you utter a strangled gasp.

“S-Solomon, please,” you gasped and looked up at him. His eyes glistened, and his hand had moved to the front of your throat, squeezing somewhat firmly but still allowing you to breathe. His hand was surprisingly cold.

“I won’t accept such behavior,” he growled, and his voice, though quiet, seemed to fill the entire room, “I won’t accept you teasing me like that. Is that understood?”

“What if it’s not?” you whispered and looked back up at him, a small smile twitching onto your lips. Solomon cocked an eyebrow and leaned his face down so it was mere centimeters from yours - you could feel his hot breath roll over your face. It was disgusting but also so very hot, and you found yourself trying to hold back a whimper. You failed spectacularly.

“Then I guess I have to knock it into you, don’t I?”

You were about to say, ‘please do’, but he ripped the words apart and left you with a mere moan when he pressed his crotch against yours and rolled his hips. His hand was still on your throat, thumb brushing against the thick, thrumming vein on the side and letting it stay there to feel your excitement.

“Seems I’m not the only one reacting to this,” he murmured, and for the first time in forever, you felt your cheeks burn. Before you had a chance to defend yourself - not that you actually knew what to say - he let go of your throat to undo his belt. You sat up on the table and wrapped your legs around his waist while throwing your arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss that seemed to take him by surprise.

He didn’t return it at first, but when the metallic clanks of the belt had subsided and the belt lay next to you on the table, he began kissing you back, and he did so with great vigour. He kissed like his life depended on it, hard and demanding and not giving you a second to catch your breath. Gradually, your lungs started aching, screaming with the need for oxygen, and you tried to pull back, but Solomon wasn’t having it.

He put a hand on the back of your head and shoved his tongue into your mouth, making you moan loudly and clutch at his clothes.

Then you felt his hands push and tug at your robes until they fell away and left you naked and exposed on the table. You rarely bothered with putting on clothes when you wore the robes - which was nearly always - and today was no exception. You had planned this, had planned to get fucked over the table in the Temple. What you hadn’t planned for was teasing Solomon into this pretty wild alpha-like mode.

Not that you minded, Heavens no. When he broke the kiss to roughly move you on your stomach, not caring for your comfort in the slightest, it was the hottest thing you had ever experienced, and a throaty moan escaped you. Your fingers curled on the cool wooden surface of the table, and you turned your head to look at Solomon.

He looked back at you like you were nothing but a piece of meat, a way to relieve himself of the stress and tension he was carrying. You were about to lift your head to get a better look - damn, that hungry look suited him - but then there was a hand of shadows and darkness that pressed down against your head, keeping it firm against the table.

You gasped and whimpered softly, trying to wriggle, but found yourself tied down with thin but impossibly strong tendrils of shadow. They were cold, and you could feel the underlying strength when you struggled against them.

“Hush hush, little lamb,” he whispered and caressed your cheek with long and thin fingers, “just lay still and let me enjoy you.”

The words would be infuriating, insulting, had they been spoken by anyone else. But you had a soft spot for your mentor, and as such, he could do pretty much anything to or with you, and you would love it.

As instructed, you stopped struggling, but were now panting heavily. You couldn’t see what he was up to, but you _could_ feel his hands pry your legs apart and drag your hips to the edge of the table. You whimpered and closed your eyes, letting yourself be pressed against the table by the power of the darkness and the comforting weight of his body as it leaned against you.

You felt cornered, small, vulnerable, delicate, and it was _perfect_.

Solomon started out by touching your cunt with his fingers, stroking through the slick between your folds. He growled lowly in appreciation by how wet you already were. Wasting no time, he stroked around your entrance for half a second before lining up his cock with your slit, and pressed in.

You had seen his cock plenty of times, and while it wasn’t much bigger or thicker than average, it felt amazing inside you. You were relatively small and petite yourself, and his cock made you feel full and complete every time it was inside you. Which was more often than was probably healthy. But neither of you cared about ethics or morals or the right-or-wrong of the student sleeping with her mentor. It was just something that happened. Something that others couldn’t know about, of course.

They would think Solomon had gone soft - which he had, just a little bit - or that you were his favourite student - which you were, sort of. And Solomon couldn’t risk losing the respect of his fellow Necromancers. That would be social suicide, and Solomon would most likely be thrown out of the Temple.

So, you both kept it a secret.

“Ever so tight, little lamb,” he growled as he pressed further in until he was ballsdeep within you, “so tight I could lose myself in you in mere minutes. But I won’t. I’m going to take my time with you, and you’re going to wish I would stop and just _finish_. You’ll be begging me to finish what you started.”

“I don’t see you doing anything about tha--- ah!” The last word died on your tongue and stretched and twisted into a surprised gasp when Solomon pulled out only to shove inside you again with all his might. Only the shadows made sure you didn’t move, your body barely jerking an inch over the table as he drove relentlessly into you.

“Fuck,” you cursed and squeezed your eyes tightly shut, biting your lower lip to stop the sounds from spilling out. Immediately, the shadows shoved themselves inside your mouth - cold, cold, cold - and held your mouth open so that the noises you made had no filter, but instead filled the room.

“Much better, don’t you think?” he whispered against your ear, then chuckled darkly before leaning on his elbow beside your head and thrusting hard and fast.

“Y-Yes, Solomon,” you gasped and tried to grab a hold of the table, only to fail. There was nowhere to hold onto. It was smooth and plain, with no holes and no crevices for your nails to dig into.

Each thrust filled you with warmth and arousal, and it didn’t take long before your stomach had tied itself into a tight knot, warmth and adrenaline surging through you, washing over you in gigantic waves that threatened to drown you. You gasped and panted, heaving for air, and fought valiantly to keep your orgasm at bay. But once more, you failed.

Your cunt clamped down around Solomon’s cock like a vice as you came, making him grunt and growl but he kept thrusting like a vicious beast in heat. The sound of skin against skin reverberated in the cold, mostly bare room, and the only other sounds that accompanied that were your own filthy moans, whimpers, and loud panting, and Solomon’s grunts. All of it made your skin crawl with delight and inhuman need for more, more, _more_.

It took you a few moments after the blinding whiteness had disappeared to realize that you actually were whimpering, “More, more, more, please, Solomon, more!”. And Solomon didn’t dawdle. He instead grabbed one of your legs and hoisted it over his shoulder, then kept thrusting into you at a merciless pace. At this new angle, he reached deeper within you, and you could have sworn that with every thrust, the head of his cock bumped against your cervix. It was painful, yet it made you yearn for him to keep going.

Then there was suddenly a loud smack, and you felt a burning sensation on your ass. You yelped and tried turning to look at him, but the shadow-hand was still pressing your face against the table. You found yourself drooling slightly.

Gross.

“Did I give you permission to come?” Solomon snarled, and it filled you with delight to hear how unsteady and weak his voice had become. But the words, oh those words! If that was how he wanted to play, you were more than happy to play along.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you panted and looked at the naked wall opposite you, loving the feeling of Solomon fucking you to within an inch of your life.

Hearing himself be called ‘sir’ made Solomon chuckle darkly, and you were sure he was grinning as well. Then another smack on your ass, and you yelped again. The startled yelp changed into a wanton moan when the hand rested on your ass and started kneading and squeezing it. Not once did he lose track of his pace.

“What are you sorry for, little one?”

“I’m sorry for… for coming without your permission, sir!” you whimpered and gritted your teeth together as you felt another orgasm threaten to take you down. You were fairly certain there wouldn’t be any actual punishment for coming without Solomon’s permission, but it was just more fun to play along.

“And what else are you sorry for, I wonder?”

“I’m-I’m sorry for making you excited at the meeting, sir!”

“That’s a good girl.” He spanked you again, and again, and again, until you knew your ass would be red and sore for days. Of course, you would wear the marks of his hand with pride, and you would find great joy in squirming in the chairs due to the light, stinging pain. You loved everything he did to you.

By the time your second orgasm crashed over you, Solomon himself wasn’t far from coming. You cried out your pleasure, somewhat aware that others could probably hear what was going on, and clenched tightly around him, your cunt fluttering and pulsating rhythmically.

Solomon grunted loudly and snapped his hips hard against you a few more times before succumbing to the greater powers of orgasm. As he came, his shadows withdrew into his cane, and you were free to wriggle onto your back and look up at him. His hair, thin and black, hung around his face, and his big lips turned up in a silent snarl. His eyes were closed, nose scrunched up.

He let go of your leg, and you wrapped both around his waist to draw him in closer, squeezing his cock with your cunt, and he shuddered visibly while letting go of a surprised, wretched moan. He leaned further in over the table, his body sagging against you, and you seized the chance to kiss him again. He kissed you back, not with the fierce intensity he had before, but rather a slower and softer kiss that left your soul and heart longing for it to never end.

But all good things come to an end, and so did this.

Solomon pulled back and out, making you wince slightly, and stood up in his full height. You still lay on the table, too fucked-out to really move or care, and you only moved your head to follow him with your eyes. He took his belt and put it back in the pants, then put those back on. His cane leaned against the table, and he took it in hand, leaned against it. A smile breached his face as he looked at you, and you smiled back to him.

“Do you need a hand getting up?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

He shook his head, but there was still that genuinely kind smile on his features as he grabbed you by the waist and hauled you onto the floor. You swayed a bit, and your knees buckled - your legs felt like jelly - but due to Solomon holding you, you remained standing. You reached for your robes and put them back on, tucking them tightly around your body and pulling up the hood so no one would see how hard you were blushing. You didn’t want to answer any questions right now - you just wanted to go back to your room and sleep for ages.

Before you got that far, however, Solomon spun you around to face him and kissed you again. This time a deeper, sweeter kiss, and you lifted a trembling hand to stroke his cheek.

The door flew open, and you froze. So did Solomon.

“Ah, Cleric Wreath,” said a Necromancer - sounded like a woman - and there was the sound of footsteps that then abruptly stopped. You held your breath.

“Is this… a bad time?”

“We were just leaving,” Solomon said, and you were immensely relieved to hear that his voice had regained its authority and composure. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, turned you, and pushed you towards the crowd of Necromancers that stood by the door. You lowered your head and started walking towards them, keeping your mouth shut so as to not start giggling like a madman.

This was, without a doubt, the silliest, stupidest thing you had ever done. Would you do it again?

Without a shadow of doubt.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
